The ice stretched endlessly, a shimmering expanse of silver and pale blue, catching the faint light of a cloud-shrouded sun. Every gust of wind whispered across it, stirring loose flakes into tiny, glittering storms.
Kael glided slowly across that surface, his movements careful but elegant. Each push of his skates sent faint scratches singing through the still air.
By his side, Valkar moved with an ease that was almost insulting in its effortlessness. The dragon hardly seemed to exert himself; his massive tail sliced behind him like a rudder, guiding his balance, propelling him forward.
To anyone watching, it looked as though Valkar wasn't skating at all—just drifting, as though the ice itself bent to his will.
